


Sei bello come casa mia

by skywalkersamidala



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, M/M, Parenthood, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates), but she does make a brief appearance as his godmother!, clarice isn't piero's mom in this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersamidala/pseuds/skywalkersamidala
Summary: When his roommate Lorenzo unexpectedly gets custody of the three-month-old son he didn’t know he had, Francesco decides that it’s not his problem and he will have nothing to do with it, ever. But Piero is awfully cute. So is Lorenzo, now that he thinks about it.
Relationships: Lorenzo "Il Magnifico" de' Medici/Francesco de' Pazzi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this like a year ago as a completely self-indulgent piece I never intended to publish, but then I rediscovered it recently and was like “hey this isn’t half bad” so I decided to finish it up and post it! Now you can’t come for me re: this being total cliché fluffy nonsense because I’ve told you upfront that it was written as pure self-indulgence djfgkh
> 
> I decided to have Piero’s mom be an OC in this story bc her decision to give up custody of him didn’t seem like something Clarice would do (but given her reasons, it is a perfectly valid decision! Francesco’s a judgy bitch about it because that’s who he is as a person lmfao but I myself have quite a lot of sympathy for Sofia, I probably would’ve liked to explore her more if she wasn’t a completely made-up character and if this fic wasn’t already 3x longer than I intended whoops)
> 
> The scenario of the baby acquisition is filled with holes in logic and bad decisions, but that’s just par for the course with the accidental baby acquisition trope so what can you do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ it would not be an accidental acquisition if it was a responsible and well-planned acquisition! And also the usual disclaimer that I know nothing about babies and parenthood etc.
> 
> Title taken from “Bergamo” by Pinguini Tattici Nucleari (the actual lyric is “bella” but I changed it to -o to fit our lads)

After a long and frustrating day at the bank, Francesco was exhausted and crabby and looking forward to a quiet night at home. He prayed Lorenzo, his roommate, would be spending the night with whoever he was currently fucking so that Francesco could have some peace for once. It wasn’t that Francesco didn’t like Lorenzo; on the contrary, they’d been friends since they were kids (on and off, but in the years since Jacopo’s death, solidly on). Lorenzo just wasn’t exactly conducive to a quiet night.

Francesco hopped off the bus and walked down the street towards their apartment building, humming some catchy song that was constantly on the radio these days which Lorenzo unironically loved and Francesco pretended to hate. As he got closer, he noticed a woman standing by the door with a baby carrier in hand, but Francesco thought nothing of it.

Until she spoke to him as he was fishing for his keys. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Lorenzo de’ Medici, do you know him?” she asked. “I think he lives here, but I had a hard time tracking down his address, so I could be mistaken.”

Startled, Francesco looked over at her. He considered denying knowledge of Lorenzo’s existence so she’d leave him alone, but his conscience made him admit, “Yes, he’s my roommate. But he mentioned he’s working late today, so he probably won’t be home for another hour or two.”

He hoped this would make the woman admit defeat and leave, but to his consternation, she looked highly distressed. “Are you sure? I have to catch a train in less than an hour, but I really need to talk to him before I go,” she said. “I’m leaving Florence and not planning to come back anytime soon, so this is my only chance to see him.”

Francesco was sorely tempted to say, _Oh, what a shame,_ and go inside. But instead, he grudgingly offered, “I can tell him to call you. What’s your name?”

“Sofia, but he doesn’t have my number,” she said. “The thing is—well, it’s embarrassing, but—” She took a deep breath. “We met at a bar one night a little over a year ago, and we…ah, spent the night together, and then later when I found out I—I guess maybe I was embarrassed, and I was too proud to tell him or ask him for any help or—hell, I wasn’t even sure how to get in touch with him at the time, I only found out his last name a few weeks ago when I saw some news story about the Medici bank and I recognized his picture—”

The puzzle pieces snapped together for Francesco, and for the first time, he turned his attention to the sleeping baby in the carrier. “That’s his kid,” he said flatly.

Sofia lifted her chin a little defiantly, as if sensing Francesco’s judgment. Although his judgment was actually one hundred percent for Lorenzo rather than her. “Yes,” she said. “In the beginning I seriously considered abortion or adoption, but I decided that I could do it on my own. Turns out I can’t. He’s three months old, and I’ve tried, I’ve tried so hard for the past three months, but I just can’t. I don’t have a lot of money, and I’m not cut out for parenthood. I can’t take care of him anymore.”

“So you’re skipping town and dumping him on Lorenzo’s doorstep?” Francesco said. Okay, maybe ten percent of his judgment was for her.

“Have you ever tried raising a child?”

“No,” Francesco said, not that it was any of her business.

“Then you have no right to judge me, you have no idea what it’s like,” Sofia said coolly.

“Hmph. Fair enough,” Francesco grumbled.

“I’m all on my own, I don’t have any family to help me out, and I was looking into adoption again when I found out his father is a Medici,” she continued. “So I thought Lorenzo might be willing and able to care for him, and I figured I should at least ask.”

“You _should_ have told him when you first found out you were pregnant,” Francesco said. “Would it really have been that hard to track him down? You had nine months to do it.”

Sofia glared at him. “Look, I didn’t come here to explain myself to Lorenzo’s roommate,” she said impatiently. “But I have to get going if I want to make my train. Just write down my phone number and have Lorenzo call me. Please.”

Francesco sighed but took out his phone to type her number as she dictated it to him. As soon as he’d put it back in his pocket, Sofia was handing him the baby carrier. “Wait, hold on,” Francesco spluttered, trying to pass it back. “I didn’t agree to take your kid! None of this involves me!”

“Well, I can’t take him to Rome with me since I’ll be crashing on a friend’s couch,” Sofia said. “If Lorenzo doesn’t want to keep him, fine, he can call me and we can figure out what else to do. But for now, Piero has nowhere else to go but here.”

“Piero,” Francesco repeated, realizing that must be the baby’s name. Lucky coincidence; Piero was the name of Lorenzo’s late father.

Francesco looked down at him and saw that he was still sound asleep. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sofia taking a few steps away, and he quickly looked back up at her. “Wait,” he said. “Don’t you at least want to say goodbye?”

Sofia hesitated, a vulnerable look on her face. But then her expression became carefully closed-off and she shook her head. “That would just make it harder,” she said quietly, and she turned and walked away.

Francesco was still in shock over all of this, and only once Sofia had vanished from sight did the fact that he’d just been saddled with a _baby_ truly register. He swore so loudly that Piero woke up and blinked up at him with big brown eyes. Then, probably wondering who the fuck this weirdo holding him was, he burst into tears, which made Francesco swear again.

Needing to get inside before one of the neighbors saw him out here with a baby and jumped to conclusions, Francesco set the carrier down and hastened to unlock the door. “Fuck you, Lorenzo, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” he muttered as he jiggled the key in the lock.

He went in with Piero and up to his and Lorenzo’s apartment, and fortunately they made it inside without being spotted by any nosy neighbors. Francesco kicked the door shut behind him, gingerly lifted Piero out of his carrier, and went to sit on the couch with him.

He didn’t know what Piero’s issue was but he did know that he needed him to stop crying right now before he triggered a migraine, so he tried bouncing him up and down to make him calm down. He’d seen Guglielmo and Bianca do that before with their kids, but no such luck. Piero kept on wailing.

Francesco groaned and leaned back against the couch, hating everything and Lorenzo most of all. Trust him to go and accidentally knock someone up, the hoe. Why couldn’t he just keep it in his pants for _once_ in his life?

By the time Lorenzo got home from work an hour later, Piero had stopped crying, but he was still red-faced and annoyed. So was Francesco. “Hey,” Lorenzo said as he shut the door. “Is everything okay? I was in a meeting, so I didn’t see your text about there being a ‘situation’ until—whoa, whose baby is that?”

“Yours,” Francesco said crossly.

“What?”

“A one-night stand of yours accosted me outside saying something about not being cut out for parenthood—and no wonder, I mean, what kind of parent just hands their baby off to some stranger on the street claiming to be its father’s roommate? She was in a hurry, though, had to catch a train,” Francesco said, getting up and crossing the room towards him. “So here’s your kid. Congrats.”

Lorenzo had gone very pale, but Francesco was too mad to feel sorry for him. He dumped Piero into his arms, and Lorenzo scrambled to adjust his grip so he wouldn’t drop him. “Hang on,” he said weakly. “Can you explain all of that more slowly?”

Sighing, Francesco went through his conversation with Sofia in more detail. “Oh my God,” Lorenzo said when he’d finished. He really looked like he was about to pass out.

But Francesco had no sympathy. “How could you have let this happen?” he said. “How stupid are you? Going around having unprotected sex all over Florence—”

“I do not! I’m usually very careful about that!” Lorenzo protested. “It’s just that that night with Sofia was right after I’d found out Lucrezia Donati was married, so I was drunk—like, _really_ drunk, and completely out of it and not thinking straight—”

“So you accidentally knocked someone up because you were upset to discover you’d been hooking up with a married woman,” Francesco concluded. “You are _such_ a hoe, it’s unbelievable.”

“I don’t need this right now, Francesco, okay? Jesus, we find out I have a freaking _child_ and your first instinct is to judge and yell at me rather than, I don’t know, asking how I’m feeling?” Lorenzo’s voice cracked a little. “God forbid my friend offer to _help_ me in this situation.”

Things that felt awfully like guilt and sympathy were gnawing in Francesco’s stomach, but he determinedly squashed them down. “Whatever. Just call Sofia and deal with this,” he said, and he turned to leave the room. “I’m going to take a nap, and he better be gone by the time I wake up.”

“Wait—Francesco, wait, wait,” Lorenzo said, hurrying to block his path. “You can’t just go _nap,_ we have to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? You don’t know what condoms are, now there’s a baby in our apartment, and you’re going to go put him up for adoption and we’ll forget this ever happened,” Francesco said, feeling heartless even as he said it.

“You can’t be serious!” Lorenzo said. “Francesco, he—he’s my _son_. He even looks like me, look.”

“All babies look the same,” Francesco said.

“No, they don’t.” Lorenzo looked down at Piero with a small smile, reaching his free hand out to gently trace his finger across his cheek. “He looks like me.”

This definitely did not warm Francesco’s heart. Not in the slightest. “Either he goes or I do,” he said, trying to sound more stubborn than he felt.

“Francesco, come on—”

“Babies were _not_ part of the deal when I agreed to be your roommate. So keep him if you like, but I’m moving out.”

“A month,” Lorenzo said. “Just give it a month so we can see how it goes. Then at the end of the month, you can move out if I decide to keep him.”

“No way—”

“Please? He’ll behave himself. Won’t you, Piero?” he cooed in a baby voice that absolutely didn’t affect Francesco at all.

“He screamed for fifteen minutes straight before you got here, then sulked for forty-five more minutes,” Francesco said.

“Maybe he was just scared to be in an unfamiliar environment with a stranger,” Lorenzo said. “I’m sure he’ll feel better now that his dad’s here.”

“He doesn’t know you’re his dad, you’re just as much of a stranger to him as I am,” Francesco pointed out, though he felt guilty when that made Lorenzo flinch.

“Francesco, please,” Lorenzo said. “Please stay.”

“Why do you care so much?” Francesco asked. “It’s not like you can’t afford the rent on your own.” It _was_ a pretty expensive apartment, but they were both very well-off due to running the two biggest banks in Florence.

“I just…I need you,” Lorenzo said in a small voice. “I don’t know the first thing about parenting, I can’t do it without you.”

“I know even less than you do. And I’m your roommate, not your boyfriend,” Francesco said, vaguely wondering why the thought of being Lorenzo’s boyfriend made his stomach do a flip. “Ask whoever you’re screwing to be your co-parent.”

“I’m not screwing anyone right now.”

“Really? Has the apocalypse arrived?”

Lorenzo ignored that comment. “Please,” he said yet again. “Just for a month. Maybe I’ll have it figured out by then and I’ll be able to do it on my own. But for right now I—I’m so overwhelmed, Francesco, I need you. Please.”

Francesco sighed and looked back and forth between Lorenzo’s pleading expression and Piero’s chubby little face. “Fine,” he said. “But only for a month.”

Lorenzo beamed at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You owe me. Big time.”

“I know,” Lorenzo said. “Now, could you please hold him again just for a little while so I can go call Sofia?”

Francesco grumbled about it but did obligingly sit with Piero on the couch while trying not to eavesdrop on the muffled conversation coming from Lorenzo’s room. At last Lorenzo returned, and he took Piero back and kissed his forehead, the smile on his face again causing a funny sort of twinge in Francesco’s heart.

“Well?” Francesco said.

“She pretty much just reiterated everything she told you, but in more detail,” Lorenzo said.

“So she’s really okay with leaving Piero with you permanently and not seeing him ever again?”

“Well, we’re going to work out a way for her to be able to come visit him, but otherwise yeah, she says full custody is mine if I want it.”

“Are you sure she’s not just taking advantage of you for your money?” Francesco asked. “I mean, she apparently had no intention of telling you about Piero’s existence until she found out you’re a Medici. Maybe he’s not even your kid at all and this is all some elaborate fake sob story just to get money from you.”

Lorenzo shook his head. “No, if she wanted to take advantage, she wouldn’t have left Piero with me, she would’ve kept him and contacted me asking for money. But she hasn’t asked for a cent from me,” he said. “I even offered for us to have joint custody with me giving her financial support, but she said no, there are other reasons she’s not well-suited for parenthood that money can’t fix. She just wants Piero to be well taken care of, that’s all. And he _is_ my son. I can feel it.”

Usually Francesco would scoff that Lorenzo was too naïve, but he had to admit that nothing Sofia had said in their brief conversation had given him the impression that she was after Lorenzo’s money. Not that that made him feel any less obliged to look out for his idiot friend whose good heart was often easily taken advantage of.

“I guess,” Francesco said. “Anyway, can I finally go take my nap?”

“Actually…”

“What _now?”_

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on him while the other goes to get baby supplies,” Lorenzo said.

“Take him with you,” Francesco said.

“We’ll have to walk because I don’t have a car seat, and how am I supposed to walk home carrying him and all the stuff? I only have two hands.”

“I’m _not_ staying home alone with him again.”

That was how Francesco found himself pushing their shopping cart through the store as Lorenzo walked next to him carrying Piero. And being very unhelpful because he was too busy staring at him like he was the most miraculous thing he’d ever seen. “How many bottles do you need?” Francesco asked. “Lorenzo? Hello? Lorenzo?”

“What?” Lorenzo said, tearing his eyes away from Piero.

“How many bottles do you need?”

“I don’t know. A few?”

Francesco rolled his eyes and swept several off the shelf and into the cart. “You really should’ve had Bianca or Guglielmo or your mother or _anyone_ who knows shit about babies come with you,” he grumbled.

“I will tomorrow,” Lorenzo said. “But we had to hurry and get the essentials right now, there was no time to call my family and explain the whole situation and wait for them to get here and—”

“Okay, okay, never mind.”

They turned down the next aisle, where Francesco nearly mowed down a pregnant woman with the cart by accident. “Sorry,” he said, though this was more directed at the other woman accompanying her, who was now glaring at him, than at the pregnant woman herself, who seemed unbothered.

“My fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she said before turning to Piero with a smile. “He’s just adorable! How old is he?”

“Three months,” Lorenzo said proudly.

Francesco started to tune out, but then he heard the woman saying something about “such a sweet family” and alarm bells went off in his head. “Oh, we’re not—I’m just his friend,” he said quickly. “That’s not my kid.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for assuming,” she said politely as Lorenzo gave him a _don’t be rude_ look. She gestured at the woman beside her. “Whenever my wife and I are out together with our son—he’s four, this is our second child—no one thinks to imagine we could _both_ be his parents and always assumes one of us is just a friend, so I hate to do the same thing to other people. But I guess I’ve just made a bad assumption in the opposite direction!”

Lorenzo’s face lit up at this revelation. “Don’t worry about it! We’re actually both bisexual, so we do appreciate you not making heteronormative assumptions, even if it would’ve been correct in this particular case,” he said. “Hey, I hope this isn’t too invasive, but would it be all right if I asked you a little about your experiences as LGBTQ parents? I haven’t really thought about how that might affect things—I’m completely new to parenting, you see, I actually didn’t even know about my son until a couple hours ago…”

Next thing Francesco knew, Lorenzo was telling her his entire life story. He apparently had no intention of leaving this aisle until they had become best friends, so Francesco left the cart with him and wandered away out of sheer boredom. Though browsing aimlessly through baby toys was hardly any less boring.

But then he spotted a big and particularly soft-looking plush elephant, so he picked it up and examined it more closely. Good quality and a reasonable price (yes, Francesco knew that Lorenzo could easily afford to throw hundreds of euros away on baby toys, but it was the principle of the thing), and the tag said it was safe for ages zero and up. They were only supposed to be getting the bare essentials right now, but Piero might want a stuffed animal to play with today, right? Well, to whatever extent three-month-olds could play with things rather than just lying there flailing around helplessly; Francesco didn’t know anything about baby development milestones.

Regardless, he took the elephant with him and went to find Lorenzo, who’d finally left his conversation and was walking around looking for him. “Oh, there you are,” he said. He smiled when he spotted the elephant Francesco was carrying. “What’s that? Did you pick that out for Piero?”

“I don’t know, I just thought he might like it,” Francesco mumbled, embarrassed. “But he doesn’t really need it, I’ll put it back—”

But Piero was sticking his hand out towards the elephant, clearly attempting to grab it. “Aww, look, he loves it!” Lorenzo said. He took the elephant from Francesco with his free hand and showed it to Piero. “Look at what Francesco picked out for you! Isn’t it soft? It was so nice of Francesco to think of you, wasn’t it?”

“Whatever, it’s just a dumb stuffed animal,” Francesco said, trying to ignore the warm burst of pride he felt at Piero’s delight with his selection. And Lorenzo’s. “Anyway, I think we’ve got everything we need for now. Are you ready to go or do you have some more strangers to befriend first?”

“Oh, Chiara’s just the nicest! We exchanged numbers, and she’s going to bring me to the next meeting of her parents’ group,” Lorenzo reported happily, and Francesco sighed and shepherded him towards the checkout before he could get sidetracked again.

They finally made it home with a crib and sheets, formula, diapers, and some baby clothes that seemed more or less the right size. And a carseat for the return trip—Francesco had smartly thought to drive to the store in his car while Lorenzo walked with Piero so they wouldn’t have to carry a giant crib box home on foot.

“This should be enough to get us through the night,” Lorenzo said after they’d finished bringing everything inside. “And tomorrow I’ll have Bianca come with me to get more stuff.”

“Good luck explaining all this to your family,” Francesco said, and Lorenzo grimaced. “And I think Piero needs a diaper change.”

“Yeah, I think so. Can you get started on the crib?”

“Fine, but only because I have nothing better to do.” Lorenzo put Piero down on the table, and Francesco gasped in horror. “You’re going to change him on the table? Where we _eat?”_

“Where else am I supposed to do it?” Lorenzo said. “The bathroom counter’s not big enough, and _you_ said that changing table was a waste of money.”

“Why did you listen to me? Put it on your list for tomorrow. And get us a new table while you’re at it.”

“I’m _obviously_ going to clean it afterwards, you’re such a drama queen.”

Francesco lugged the box with the crib into Lorenzo’s room and started taking all the parts out. He frowned at the instructions, which provided a very confusing diagram and no written explanation. “Are you sure that’s stable?” Lorenzo said when he came in a while later to check on his progress.

Francesco shrugged. “It looks like the picture. Mostly.”

“‘Mostly’ isn’t good enough for the crib my son’s going to sleep in!”

“You do it, then!”

“I can’t, I have to call my family and explain everything, and that’s going to take a _long_ time. Just fix it. Please,” Lorenzo quickly added when Francesco glared at him.

He left and, heaving a sigh, Francesco disassembled the crib and started putting it back together more carefully. Because he may not have been thrilled with this situation, but that didn’t mean he wanted the crib to break and kill Piero in the middle of the night. He didn’t need that on his conscience.

* * *

Lorenzo sat down on the couch, still holding Piero. He’d hardly put him down from the moment Francesco had put him into his arms. Piero looked curiously up at him with those big and impossibly adorable eyes, and Lorenzo smiled, his heart bursting with so much love he could barely breathe. He didn’t know how it was possible to have this much love for someone whose existence he’d only known about for a few hours, but here he was.

Lorenzo could still hardly believe it, was half-convinced he’d wake up tomorrow and this would all have been a dream. He was in shock, he was stressed, he was terrified, but he was also overjoyed. He’d always wanted kids, and sure, this wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured it happening, but still. Piero was _his._ His son. Lorenzo had _made_ him. He was a tiny little miracle and Lorenzo already loved him so fucking much.

“What do you think, should we call Nonna and Aunt Bianca and Uncle Giuliano and tell them about you?” Lorenzo asked. Piero gurgled happily at him, and he smiled wider and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “That sounds like a yes.”

He fired off a message to the family group text and fortunately all three of them replied quickly that they were around, so Lorenzo held up his phone and Facetimed them, holding Piero securely in his lap with the other hand.

“So what’s this big news?” Lucrezia asked when everyone was on.

“Well, something…um, pretty crazy happened,” Lorenzo said, making sure to hold his phone at an angle that kept Piero hidden for now so he could explain everything first before they saw him and freaked out. “I don’t really know how to say this, but…”

“Oh my God, Francesco’s dead,” Giuliano said with a fake gasp.

“What? Of course not, he’s fine,” Lorenzo said.

“What the hell, Giuliano, don’t joke about that!” Bianca scolded. “What if that actually _had_ been what he was going to say? Then you’d feel bad, wouldn’t you?”

“I mean, I did figure Lorenzo wouldn’t describe his best friend’s death as ‘something pretty crazy that happened,’ so it seemed like a safe joke.”

“What were you going to say, Lorenzo?” Lucrezia said, talking over them with the deft expertise of someone who’s raised three absurdly bickering-prone children.

Lorenzo tried to think about how to break the news. He would really prefer not to get into the details of his sex life with his family, but it was pretty much unavoidable. “Well, about a year ago I had a one-night stand with this woman named Sofia, but we didn’t exchange contact information or anything so she had no way of getting in touch with me until she tracked me down recently,” he said, speaking quickly to rip the band-aid off. “Turns out she got pregnant that night, and today she came by with our three-month-old son and asked me to take care of him because she can’t.”

_“What?”_ all three of them yelled at once.

Lorenzo launched into a more detailed account of what had happened. “You mean to tell me I have another grandson who’s three months old already?” Lucrezia demanded, sounding like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be upset or thrilled.

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said. “His name is—you’ll never believe it, but his name is Piero.”

Lucrezia put a hand to her mouth, looking tearful. It had been several years since Lorenzo’s father’s death, but they all still missed him. _A little less now, though_ , Lorenzo thought as he gazed down at his son who coincidentally shared his father’s name.

“Well,” Lucrezia said, her voice wobbling a little. “It sounds like fate.”

Lorenzo smiled. “I guess it does.”

“Oh my God, Lorenzo, can we see him?” Bianca said excitedly. “I can’t believe I’m finally an aunt! I was losing hope of either of you ever settling down and having kids.”

“I don’t know about settled down, but I do have a kid,” Lorenzo said as Giuliano scoffed. “Here he is.”

He tilted his phone so they could see Piero, who had fallen asleep in his lap. “Oh my God!” Bianca shrieked again. Lucrezia started exclaiming too, and even Giuliano sounded a little choked up when he said that he was cute.

“I’m coming over,” Lucrezia declared.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now! You won’t keep me from my grandson for another minute!”

“Okay, then, see you soon,” Lorenzo said, and she hung up.

“Can we come too?” Bianca asked.

“Sure. But maybe don’t bring the kids right now?” Lorenzo said apologetically. “Sorry, I’m just kind of…”

“Overwhelmed?” Bianca supplied with a grin.

He laughed. “Yeah.”

“Oh, I’ve totally been there, and a four- and three-year-old running around underfoot is definitely the last thing you need right now,” Bianca agreed. “Guglielmo will stay with the kids while I run over, and they can meet Piero once you’ve got it together a little more.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Speaking of Guglielmo, how’s Francesco dealing with the new roommate?” Giuliano said, smirking.

“He’s complained plenty, but I know he doesn’t really mean it. He’s actually being a pretty good sport about everything,” Lorenzo said. “He let me drag him shopping for baby stuff, and he even picked out the most adorable stuffed elephant for Piero all by himself and completely unprompted.”

“That’s so cute!” Bianca said. “Don’t tell him I said that, he’d kill me.”

“I don’t want to get killed either, so I won’t,” Lorenzo replied.

He asked Bianca for the contact information of her kids’ pediatrician, and then she and Giuliano hung up too, promising they’d be there soon. Lorenzo wandered back into his room with Piero to see how Francesco was doing. To his relief, the crib looked very sturdy now. “I think that’s right,” Francesco said.

“Looks great,” Lorenzo said. “Thank you.”

“How’d telling the family go?”

“They all seemed happy, thank God. They’re on their way over now,” Lorenzo said. “Hey, you could go take that nap, I’ve got everything covered for a while.”

Francesco shrugged. “At this point I might as well just wait it out, I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I nap now.”

He didn’t sound mad, but Lorenzo still felt guilty. “I’m really sorry about all of this,” he said. “It wasn’t fair of me to rope you into it.”

“It’s okay,” Francesco said. “I’m sorry for being a bitch about it earlier.”

Lorenzo laughed. “It was justified,” he said. “And thanks for all your help so far. I mean it. I’d be completely panicking right now without you, and instead I’m only mostly panicking.”

Francesco smiled. “My life was getting a little boring anyway,” he said. “Can I…can I hold him?”

“Of course,” Lorenzo said, thrilled to see him taking an interest. He passed Piero over, and Piero snuffled a little in his sleep and immediately snuggled into Francesco’s chest. For some reason, Lorenzo felt weirdly emotional seeing Francesco cradling his son in his arms like this, doubly so when Francesco smiled down at him.

“He _is_ pretty cute,” Francesco said.

“Those Medici genes,” Lorenzo joked, trying to shake himself out of whatever this strange feeling was. “We’re all cute.”

“That’s debatable.”

Someone buzzed up to their apartment a moment later, and Lorenzo went to answer it. It was Giuliano, whose own apartment was only a few minutes’ walk away. “So, where’s my nephew?” he said the second he stepped inside.

“Hello to you too. Francesco has him,” Lorenzo said just as Francesco walked into the living room, still carrying Piero.

Giuliano grinned at him. “Look at you in full dad mode.”

“I’m not in _dad mode,”_ Francesco said, flushing in embarrassment. “I’m just holding him, is that a crime?”

“Yes, because you’re keeping _me_ from holding him.”

This time Piero woke up as he was transferred, and he reached up to grab at Giuliano’s face, making him laugh. “Say hi to Uncle Giuliano, sweetheart,” Lorenzo said, also smiling.

“I can’t believe you have a _kid,”_ Giuliano said. “Especially such a cute one.”

“Me neither.”

Lucrezia was the next to arrive, and she too skipped out on greetings in favor of immediately swooping in to lift Piero out of Giuliano’s arms. “Look at him,” she said, beaming and crying a little. “Oh, he’s just beautiful, Lorenzo!”

“No lecture about me being irresponsible?” Lorenzo said.

Lucrezia laughed. “Not just yet.”

Finally Bianca got there, and more introductions and tears and hugs were exchanged. “Giovanna and Antonio will be so excited to have a cousin,” she said, planting a kiss on Piero’s cheek. “He’s so sweet.”

“You should’ve heard him screaming earlier,” Francesco said, but he was smiling too.

“If only this had happened a year ago, I could’ve given you our old baby things, but now we’re going to need them again,” Bianca said, patting her five-month baby bump.

“That’s okay,” Lorenzo said with a chuckle. “But I _was_ hoping you could come shopping with me tomorrow. Francesco and I were really out of our depth at the store today.”

“Aww, you must’ve looked like such a cute pair of gay dads,” Giuliano snickered, making Lorenzo’s heart do a little flip-flop and Francesco turn bright red.

“We did get mistaken for a couple, actually,” Lorenzo said, doing his best to laugh.

“I mean, hey, you guys are living together and raising a baby together, what else are people going to think?”

“Oh, shut up,” Lorenzo said, as Francesco was now so red that Lorenzo was genuinely concerned he might burst into flames.

They all stayed for an hour before Lorenzo said that Piero had had a busy day and needed to sleep, at which point the Medici reluctantly left (though not before soliciting promises to let them come visit again as soon as possible). Francesco settled in to watch TV as Lorenzo brought Piero into his room and got him ready for bed.

“Now, I read it’s not safe for you to have stuffed animals in your crib while you’re so little, but we’ll put your elephant right here so he’ll be nearby while you’re sleeping,” Lorenzo said, carefully positioning the elephant on top of his dresser in a spot where it would be visible from Piero’s crib.

Then he held Piero against his chest for a moment, not wanting to put him down just yet. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against his son’s head, taking a minute to just relax and _be_ with him without panicking about the million things he had to do to prepare for raising a child. Piero was so warm and so soft. Lorenzo could feel his tiny heart beating against him, his tiny back rising and falling with tiny breaths. It was amazing. _He_ was amazing.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there so far in your life, but I will be from now on. I promise.”

Because even though he’d told Francesco this month was a trial period, Lorenzo already knew he was going to keep Piero permanently. He couldn’t not. As soon as he’d looked into his eyes for the first time, he’d known he was going to keep him.

At last Lorenzo gave him a kiss and forced himself to lower him into the crib and let go of him. “Night-night, angel,” he said as Piero blinked sleepily up at him. “Sweet dreams. I love you.”

Lorenzo tiptoed out of the room and quietly shut the door, then went back into the living room and flopped down next to Francesco on the couch. “What a day,” he sighed.

“You’re telling me,” Francesco said.

They were quiet for a while. “So…how are you holding up?” Francesco asked eventually.

“I honestly don’t know. It still doesn’t feel real,” Lorenzo said with a huff of laughter.

“Yeah.”

“But…I love him so much already. I really want to be a good dad.”

“You will be.” Francesco said it matter-of-factly, almost disinterestedly, but it still made Lorenzo’s throat close up.

“Thanks,” Lorenzo said softly.

The subsequent silence was broken by muffled crying coming from Lorenzo’s bedroom. “Oh no,” he said.

He started to get up, but Francesco stopped him. “Isn’t it a thing that you’re supposed to let them cry themselves back to sleep?” he said. “I remember Guglielmo saying something about that when Giovanna was a baby.”

Lorenzo pulled out his phone and googled it while Francesco texted Guglielmo. “God, why can’t all these parenting websites just agree on something?” Lorenzo complained.

“Guglielmo says every baby is different and you have to find the sleep training method that works best for you and Piero,” Francesco read off his own phone. “Wow, that’s fucking helpful. Oh wait, he also says three months is a little young for formal sleep training anyway, so maybe you don’t have to start it right now?”

“Good, because I don’t want to sit here and listen to him be miserable,” Lorenzo said, and he went to get Piero.

He gently lifted him out of his crib. “Shh, it’s okay, Papa’s here,” he said soothingly, cuddling him and kissing his forehead. “Why don’t we go sit together with Francesco for a while? Would you like that?”

Piero just sobbed in response, but Lorenzo brought him out into the other room anyway. He sat back down on the couch and patted him on the back. “Maybe he’s hungry,” Francesco suggested.

“I don’t think so, I fed him again right before bed,” Lorenzo said. “Ah, look, he’s calming down now.” His tears were subsiding into soft hiccups. “I think he was just lonely.”

Maybe he thought he’d been abandoned. Maybe he was wondering who these strangers were. Maybe he wanted his mother.

“You okay?” Francesco said, and Lorenzo realized he was frowning.

He tried to stop. “Fine, it’s just…” He sighed. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“What?”

“It’s like you said before. I’m a stranger to him,” Lorenzo said quietly. “He has no idea who I am, because I wasn’t there when he was born, I wasn’t there the whole first three months, I wasn’t there—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Francesco cut him off. “Because you’re here now. Soon he’ll forget there was ever a time he didn’t know you. And by the time he’s a year old, five, ten years old, you’ll forget about those first three months too.”

Lorenzo suddenly felt like he was about to cry, and he blinked rapidly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Francesco,” he said.

Francesco smiled slightly. “You _would_ be fucked without me, wouldn’t you?” he agreed.

* * *

They’d been watching TV for about twenty minutes when Francesco realized that both Piero and Lorenzo had been unusually quiet for a while now. He looked over and saw that they’d fallen asleep. Piero was curled up against Lorenzo’s chest and Lorenzo’s arm was draped over him, keeping him safe and secure even in his own sleep.

Francesco gazed at them for a long minute, his heart swelling with some emotion he couldn’t name. But then he nudged Lorenzo until he woke up. “Hmm?” Lorenzo said, yawning.

Francesco nodded at Piero, and Lorenzo looked down at him and smiled. “He’s sleeping!” he said in a triumphant whisper.

“Don’t jinx it,” Francesco whispered back, and Lorenzo laughed (but very softly).

“I guess it’s my bedtime too,” Lorenzo said sheepishly. “Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

Lorenzo carefully stood and carried Piero back to his room, and Francesco turned back to the TV. But he was pretty tired too, so it wasn’t long before he turned it off and went to get ready for bed himself.

It turned out that Piero was not a fan of sleeping. He spent half the night crying, and when Francesco shuffled out of his room for breakfast the next morning, Lorenzo was already at the table nursing a large mug of coffee and looking as exhausted as Francesco felt.

“Hey,” Lorenzo said. “Did he keep you up all night?”

“No,” Francesco lied and immediately had to stifle a huge yawn.

“Yes, he did. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Francesco said, pouring himself some coffee too. “You staying home from work today?”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said. “Probably for a few weeks, as long as I can.”

“You’re the president of your bank, you can take as much time off as you want.”

“As long as I can without letting the bank fall into chaos,” Lorenzo amended with a tired smile.

Francesco sat down across from him and took in the dark circles under his eyes, and he found himself saying, “I’ll stay home too.”

“What? No, you don’t have to do that—”

“Face it, you need all the help you can get.”

Lorenzo chuckled. “True. But you’re just my roommate, you’re under no obligation to miss work for my kid.”

Francesco remembered his own irritated words from the day before. _I’m your roommate, not your boyfriend._ “I’m also your friend,” he said. “And I promised to help you, so I will.”

Lorenzo smiled at him again, a little less tiredly. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

Francesco accompanied Lorenzo, Piero, and Bianca on their shopping trip later that morning, allegedly just to give them an extra pair of hands, but secretly he _was_ invested in helping pick stuff out for Piero. Though he insisted it was only because he didn’t want to totally ruin the décor of their apartment when Lorenzo and Bianca teased him for having very strong opinions about highchairs.

They spent the rest of the day babyproofing the apartment, and when Francesco was finally able to get in bed that night, he passed out immediately. And then was woken what felt like ten seconds later by Piero crying.


	2. Chapter 2

The first week passed in a haze of sleepless nights and bottle feedings (which Francesco helped with) and diaper changes (which Francesco refused to help with). The following Monday, Francesco went back to work, deciding he could not justifiably take any more time off for a child that wasn’t his.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Francesco asked as Lorenzo followed him over to the door, carrying Piero on his hip.

Lorenzo yawned. “Yeah,” he said, even though he looked like he was asleep on his feet. “Have a good day.”

He leaned in and pecked Francesco on the lips, and they both froze. “Uh,” Francesco said.

“Sorry,” Lorenzo said, now looking wide-awake and mortified. “I don’t know what…I really need to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Francesco said with a nervous laugh. “Well, see you later.”

And he all but ran out of the apartment. Once he was safely in the stairwell, he let out a breath and leaned against the wall, reaching up to touch his lips, which were still burning with Lorenzo’s kiss. _He’s just overtired,_ Francesco told himself sternly. _It was an accident, it didn’t mean anything._

But…why had he wanted to pull Lorenzo back to him and kiss him again?

* * *

“You better have a damn good reason for calling me this early,” Bianca said grumpily when she picked up. “I mean, I’ve been up for ages with the kids anyway, but still, it’s the principle of the—”

“I accidentally kissed Francesco!” Lorenzo wailed.

_“What?”_

“I don’t know how it happened,” Lorenzo said. “He was about to leave for work, and I’m so sleep-deprived and not thinking straight, I just went for a goodbye kiss by mistake!”

“On the lips?!” Bianca demanded.

“Yes!”

“Oh my God. What did he say?”

“Nothing really, I started making excuses and he just kind of laughed and said goodbye and left.”

Now Bianca was the one laughing. “It’s not funny!” Lorenzo whined. “I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again!”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Bianca said, still snickering. “He’s been co-parenting with you all week, it’s perfectly natural for you to feel like you were seeing your husband off to work—”

“Okay, that is _not_ what happened!”

“Isn’t it? Why else would you kiss him?” Bianca said. “Unless…it was actually because you’ve subconsciously been wanting to kiss him for years.”

“What?” Lorenzo spluttered. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I’m just saying, Guglielmo and I have a long-standing bet on when the two of you will get together. I’ve got twenty euros riding on it being within the next two years. Time’s ticking.”

“What?!”

“No pressure or anything.”

Lorenzo flopped dramatically onto the couch, lying lengthwise so that Piero could lie on his tummy on top of his chest. “This is a disaster,” he said. “Do I have feelings for him? No, he’s just my friend! _You’re_ getting in my head and making me feel things that aren’t there, and besides, I’ve got enough on my hands trying to raise a baby, the last thing I need is to develop a crush on my lifelong best friend who I share a fucking apartment with and see every single day—”

“Lorenzo.”

“Oh God, I do have feelings for him,” Lorenzo moaned. “What am I going to do?”

“Well, you could tell him,” Bianca said reasonably.

“Are you crazy? He’d hate me!”

“I doubt that.”

“At the very least he would laugh at me.”

“That’s possible,” she admitted. “But wouldn’t it feel better to get it off your chest?”

“No! No, I don’t have time for this,” Lorenzo said. “I just want to focus on Piero and not worry about dating for a while.”

“Fair enough, but—”

“Okay. Good talk. _Don’t_ tell anyone about this,” Lorenzo added. “This conversation never happened.”

“What conversation?” Bianca joked, and Lorenzo rolled his eyes and hung up.

He sighed heavily, trying to process this week’s second life-changing new development. “How did this happen?” he asked Piero. _“When_ did it happen? We’ve known each other our whole lives…could I have been falling for him for years and didn’t notice? And what am I supposed to do now that I _have_ noticed? I’m not just going to be able to act like everything is normal, but I _can’t_ let him figure out how I feel. Can I?”

Alas, Piero had no answers for him. “I hope you appreciate being a baby,” Lorenzo told him. “Life was good back then. So simple. _You_ don’t have to worry about falling in love with your best friend. All you need to do is eat and sleep…huh. I guess maybe I wouldn’t like sleeping either if it was the only thing I did all day.”

Piero cooed happily at him, which made Lorenzo smile despite his stress. Then he spit up all over his shirt and started to cry, which brought his stress right back.

* * *

Francesco did not have a very productive day at the Pazzi bank. For one thing, he’d barely slept all week. For another, Lorenzo had kissed him and he was quite literally incapable of thinking about anything else. Francesco had no idea how to feel about it. If someone had brought up the prospect of kissing Lorenzo yesterday, Francesco would’ve gagged. But now that it had actually happened, he couldn’t stop imagining it happening again, but on purpose this time.

This was ridiculous. Lorenzo was his friend. Had been since they were about seven years old. Francesco wasn’t interested in him like that, he couldn’t possibly be. He probably just needed to get laid, he decided. His life was so pathetic that this half-asleep-accidental-goodbye-kiss was the most action he’d gotten in months. It had nothing to do with Lorenzo, it was just that Francesco would take anything he could get at this point.

Settling on that interpretation of his feelings, however, did nothing to prevent his brain from being accosted by a storm of mental images of Lorenzo in contexts in which Francesco really would prefer not to picture his childhood best friend.

During lunch he almost considered texting Guglielmo to ask for advice, but he discarded the idea. He was a grown man, he didn’t need to go crying to his brother every time something confusing happened in his love life. Not that this had anything to do with his love life, obviously. It was just a stupid mistake. By the time Francesco got home today, Lorenzo probably wouldn’t even remember it had happened.

That hope was disproved when Francesco opened the door of the apartment and Lorenzo took one look at him and immediately turned bright red. “H-hi,” he stammered. “How was work?”

“Fine,” Francesco said, avoiding his eyes. “How was Piero?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good.”

“Um, I was just about to take him on a walk, actually,” Lorenzo said. “I’ll see you later.”

He grabbed the stroller, strapped Piero into it, and left without further ado. Shaking his head in bemusement, Francesco went into his room to change out of his work clothes. What had gotten into Lorenzo? Francesco had never seen him get flustered like that before, he was always so composed and articulate. Surely one little accidental kiss wasn’t enough to rattle him _this_ badly.

* * *

Fortunately, the awkwardness only lasted a few days in which both of them resolutely pretended no kiss had ever taken place, and then things went back to normal. Or rather, to their new post-Piero normal.

May turned into June as the three of them settled into this new living situation. Lorenzo went back to work and would drop Piero off with Lucrezia every morning, and every evening either he or Francesco would stop by to pick him up, whoever left work first. Piero was sleeping better, or maybe Francesco had just developed the ability to sleep through his crying.

Francesco found himself noticing things like what Lorenzo was wearing and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but he tried not to think about this.

“So,” Lorenzo said one day in June. “It’s been a month.”

“Since…?”

“Since Piero.”

“Oh, right,” Francesco said, remembering his ultimatum from that first day. It felt like way longer than a month ago. “So you’re keeping him permanently, I assume?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo said. “And I have a better handle on things now, and I promised you could move out after a month, so…”

Francesco looked down at Piero, who was currently sitting in his lap and trying to pull his watch off his wrist. He wasn’t Francesco’s kid. Francesco knew that, of course he knew that. But…he couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day. He couldn’t imagine not seeing Lorenzo every day.

So he shrugged and said as casually as he could manage, “House hunting’s a bitch, I’m happy staying here, as long as you don’t mind.”

Did Lorenzo look relieved or was that just wishful thinking? “Of course we don’t mind,” he said. “Right, Piero?”

Piero finally succeeded in getting Francesco’s watch off, and he promptly stuck it in his mouth. “That cost a thousand euros,” Francesco told him, but he just giggled.

“A thousand euros? For a _watch?”_ Lorenzo said. “When you already have a phone to tell you what time it is?”

“You have no right to judge me what with all the stupid shit _you_ throw money away on.”

Lorenzo laughed and conceded the point, and they were quiet for a moment. “I also wanted to ask you…” Lorenzo began, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. “So, now that Piero’s officially staying with me, I want to have him baptized and then have a little reception afterwards so all my friends and relatives can meet him if they haven’t already. And I know you’re not really religious, but I was hoping—”

“Of course I’ll come,” Francesco interrupted before he could finish the question. “Just because I’m not exactly on speaking terms with God doesn’t mean I don’t respect the fact that you are.”

Lorenzo smiled at him. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way, because I wasn’t only going to ask you to come,” he said. “I was going to ask you to be Piero’s godfather.”

For a moment Francesco just stared at him, speechless. Godfather? Surely Lorenzo couldn’t possibly want _Francesco_ as his son’s godfather, out of all the people he knew who would be so much better suited for it.

“Me?” Francesco repeated. “Be his godfather?”

“Only if you want to be,” Lorenzo said. “You can say no, that’s perfectly okay. I know it’s a big commitment.”

“But why would _you_ want me to be?” Francesco said. “You know I’m not religious—”

“Yes, and that’s fine. I’m planning to ask Clarice to be his godmother, so I think she’ll have all the religious stuff covered,” Lorenzo said with a grin. “But while I’m glad she’ll be able to talk about that sort of thing with Piero when he’s older, I thought it might be nice for him to also have an adult role model with a different perspective on things. Someone he can go to for advice when he doesn’t want a side of Catholic guilt with it.”

“Well, what about Giuliano, then?” Francesco asked. He didn’t know why he was so hell-bent on questioning Lorenzo’s decision, why he wouldn’t let himself trust that he had his reasons for choosing him. “He’d fit that description just as well.”

“Yes, and I’ll ask him if you don’t want to do it,” Lorenzo said. “But he’s already Piero’s uncle, so why make his uncle and godfather the same person when they could be two different people? The more adult mentor figures in his life, the better, right? So I figured I’d ask two people who aren’t already directly related to him, that way he gets a bigger support network.”

“Oh.” Francesco couldn’t help but be disappointed that that was the only reason Lorenzo wanted him for the role. “I guess that makes sense.”

But then, to his surprise, Lorenzo reached out and took his hand that wasn’t currently occupied holding Piero securely in his lap. Francesco was too startled to withdraw his hand from Lorenzo’s warm grasp, wondering why a little thrill was running through him at the touch.

“And more importantly, you’re my best friend,” Lorenzo said, his tone soft and tender. “You’re my best friend and I love you and Piero loves you and you’ve been doing so much for him the past month, and I want you to always have a permanent role in his life, even once we do eventually stop living together. You’re my first choice, Francesco. As soon as the question of Piero’s godfather occurred to me, I knew I wanted it to be you.”

First choice. When had Francesco ever been anybody’s first choice for anything, let alone something so important? As he looked back at Lorenzo and took in the earnestness and hope in his eyes, he felt himself getting a little choked up.

He cleared his throat and smiled at Lorenzo, almost shyly. “I-I’d be honored,” he said.

“Really?” Lorenzo said. “You’re sure? I don’t want to pressure you into it—”

“No, it’s—I want to. Really,” Francesco said, smiling wider when he saw how thrilled Lorenzo looked.

Lorenzo pulled him into a quick hug as best he could without squishing Piero. Why was Francesco so flustered by the simple gesture of affection, one they’d shared a million times before? “Thank you so much, Francesco,” Lorenzo said as he let go of him again. Francesco could’ve sworn he looked a little flustered too.

“Thank _you,”_ Francesco said. “For asking me. For—for choosing me.”

He wasn’t only talking about this particular moment, but rather a lifetime of Lorenzo choosing him, over and over again, even when he didn’t deserve it. “I’ll always choose you,” Lorenzo said, and Francesco knew he’d understood his true meaning.

Only then did Francesco finally realize that they were still holding hands without either of them having even noticed.

* * *

The baptism went off without a hitch. Piero thankfully stayed quiet and happy for the whole ceremony and didn’t even fuss when he was taken away from Lorenzo and handed to his godparents. He’d met Clarice several times in the past month, but Lorenzo was pretty sure that his calmness was due to Francesco. After all, Francesco’s presence was just as familiar to Piero as Lorenzo’s. In Piero’s eyes, Francesco might as well have been his father too.

(But Lorenzo tried to dismiss that thought, because he really didn’t need his crush on Francesco to get even bigger than it already was.)

Clarice was beaming, joy and pride evident on her face. Francesco was more reserved, but Lorenzo knew that that little half-smile of his conveyed the same level of emotion as Clarice’s wider one. It was one of the things Lorenzo had always loved about him, the fact that his smiles were so rare that each and every one felt like a precious gift.

As Francesco held Piero over the baptismal font, he glanced up, searching for Lorenzo. Lorenzo smiled too when their eyes met, his heart practically overflowing with love for Piero, for Clarice, for all his family and friends attending the ceremony.

For Francesco.

After mass was over, the baptism guests went to Palazzo Medici for a reception—Lorenzo’s apartment wasn’t big enough to fit all these people, so Lucrezia had offered to host before he could even ask her.

“Well, Piero, you’ve officially been indoctrinated into the cult of Catholicism without having a choice in the matter,” Giuliano told his nephew, making Lorenzo shake his head in exasperation. “Congratulations.”

Clarice looked scandalized. “Don’t say that, Giuliano,” she said. “Piero getting to have a relationship with God is a wonderful thing.”

“Giuliano’s just naturally wired to do his best to piss off everyone in the room at any given time,” Francesco said. “Don’t pay him any attention.”

“At least I have to _try_ to piss people off. _You_ piss people off just by existing,” Giuliano said with a smirk.

“All right, that’s enough of that,” Lorenzo intervened before it could become a full argument. “Francesco, Clarice, why don’t you take Piero for a little while? He should spend some time with his godparents.”

Giuliano obligingly held Piero out to Clarice, who lifted him out of his arms and smiled at him. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go meet some of your guests,” she cooed to him, and they wandered off with Francesco following.

Lorenzo and his siblings went to mingle a little themselves. Lorenzo wasn’t thrilled about having to explain how Piero had come to exist to those who hadn’t yet heard about the situation, but Giuliano and Bianca were ready with snarky retorts to shield him from the more invasive personal questions.

“It’s like these people don’t know how babies are made,” Giuliano said after they’d finally warded off a particularly nosy second cousin. “You’d think saying something vague about Piero being a ‘wonderful surprise’ would be enough for them to get the hint.”

“Well, to be fair, there’s ‘wonderful surprise’ and then there’s ‘Lorenzo suddenly acquiring a four-month-old baby out of the blue,’” Bianca said. “But I can’t believe they have the audacity to ask you about it to your face instead of just gossiping about it behind your back as any polite person would do.”

“I think you and I have different ideas of what constitutes politeness,” Lorenzo remarked.

They were distracted by the sound of Piero starting to cry. Lorenzo immediately snapped into dad mode and looked around to locate him a little ways away, and he was about to go to him when he realized that he wasn’t even needed: Francesco was taking him from Clarice and expertly bouncing him up and down and making soothing shushing noises until Piero had calmed down a little. Then Francesco started making silly faces at him, and Piero’s remaining sniffles quickly turned into giggles.

“Huh,” Giuliano said. “It feels wrong seeing Francesco like that.”

“Like what?” Bianca asked.

“An actual human being with a soul. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Shut up,” Lorenzo said automatically, but in truth he was barely even listening to the conversation, too absorbed by the sight of Francesco with his son. His heart was aching, but a pleasant sort of ache.

“Yeah, Giuliano, be quiet, can’t you see Lorenzo’s busy yearning?” Bianca said.

That snapped Lorenzo out of his daze, and he turned around to glare at Bianca, who was smirking at him. “What?” Giuliano said, sounding both horrified and delighted. “Oh God, Lorenzo has a crush on Francesco?”

“No!” Lorenzo said, but he could feel that his face was incriminatingly red, as if Bianca starting to crack up wasn’t already enough to give it away.

Now Giuliano was cracking up too. “I hate you both so much,” Lorenzo complained. “Bianca, I swore you to secrecy! You _know_ he’s going to go blabbing to Francesco about it just to embarrass me—”

“Bold of you to assume I would ever voluntarily have a conversation with Francesco,” Giuliano said. “I’m obviously not going to snitch, and I’m offended you think I would.”

“Hmph.”

“Anyway, this does explain why you were so eager to make him Piero’s godfather,” Giuliano continued, still snickering. “There I was thinking he was replacing me as your brother, but obviously your feelings towards him are not at _all_ brotherly.”

“You thought what? How could you think anyone could replace you?” Lorenzo said, baffled. “Even before I realized how I—how I feel about Francesco, I never saw him as a _brother._ He’s always been different. Not better or more important, just different.”

“Well, I know that _now._ It’s just that you spend so much time with him—”

“As if you don’t spend just as much time with Sandro, if not more,” Bianca said, raising her eyebrows. “Christ, Giuliano, you do know that Lorenzo’s allowed to have friends who aren’t you, right?”

Giuliano looked affronted that he was now the one being laughed at. “Hey, can we get back to making fun of Lorenzo? Thanks.”

“No, we can’t,” Lorenzo replied.

“Yes, we can,” said Bianca, the traitor. “So, any chance Francesco returns your feelings? Has he been acting differently around you at all?”

“I don’t know, Piero and work keep me so busy I barely even have time to think about _my_ feelings, let alone Francesco’s,” Lorenzo said, which was true. He’d been trying to observe Francesco in the past month, but most of the time he was too busy and/or exhausted to have enough brainpower to waste on analyzing Francesco’s every little move.

“Well, he certainly does seem to love your kid,” Giuliano mused, once again turning to watch Francesco and Piero. “I bet he’d marry you just so he could be Piero’s dad.”

“That’s nice, but I’d prefer that he marry me because he loves _me_. N-not that I have any interest in _marrying_ him or anything,” Lorenzo hastened to stammer as both siblings got matching about-to-make-fun-of-him-again grins on their faces. “I just mean hypothetically.”

“Right,” Bianca said. “And you totally haven’t spent the past month imagining your dream wedding to Francesco in extreme detail, have you?”

“Shut _up.”_

“You know, I hate to say it, but you could do worse,” Giuliano said.

Lorenzo stared at him, astonished. “You mean _you_ approve?”

“Of course not,” Giuliano scoffed. “I just said you could do worse. But you could also _absolutely_ do better.”

“Better than that?” Bianca asked, gesturing across the room to where Francesco had turned away a little from his conversation group, all his attention focused on Piero as he nodded along seriously to whatever nonsense Piero was babbling to him and smiled at him like he was the most wonderful thing in the world. “I can’t picture anyone better than that for Lorenzo.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said with a small, wistful smile. “Neither can I.”


	3. Chapter 3

Two months later, the dreaded day came: Lorenzo had to leave Piero overnight for the first time. Francesco watched him pacing around trying to beg someone on the phone to let him send someone else in his place, but it didn’t seem to be going well.

At last Lorenzo hung up with a defeated sigh. “Apparently as the president of the bank, I can’t skip out,” he said gloomily.

“What’s it for?” Francesco asked.

“I have to meet with some very important potential client in Milan. Too important to send anyone but the president himself, according to Luca.”

“For how long?”

“Just one night, I’d leave Saturday morning and be back Sunday. But still,” Lorenzo said. “I’ve never left Piero overnight before…”

“Well, it has to happen someday, might as well be now,” Francesco said. “And your mom’s happy to watch him, right?”

“That’s just the thing, my mom’s visiting Carlo in Rome this weekend,” Lorenzo said. “Which is why I tried to schedule the meeting for a different weekend, but the guy could only do this weekend or three months from now.”

“Oh. So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll ask Bianca and Guglielmo to take him,” Lorenzo said, running a hand through his hair. “I feel bad, though, Bianca’s eight months pregnant and they already have two kids under five running around—”

“I could watch him,” Francesco said suddenly.

Lorenzo stopped and stared at him. “You? By yourself?”

“Sure. I don’t have any other plans.”

“No, no, I’m not going to make you give up your whole Saturday for this,” Lorenzo said, shaking his head. “I’m sure Giuliano can—”

“Frankly, I’d rather entrust Piero to a stranger’s care than Giuliano’s, and he’s not even my kid,” Francesco said dryly.

Lorenzo laughed. “Okay, fair, but I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Francesco said. “Plus, after living with him for three months, I’d like to think I know enough about his routine to look after him by myself for one day.”

Lorenzo chewed his lip, looking conflicted. “Are you _sure_ you don’t mind?” he said finally.

“Not at all,” Francesco said, and he meant it.

“Well…okay,” Lorenzo said, clearly relieved despite his protests. “Thank you _so_ much, Francesco, I owe you.”

A past and more selfish version of Francesco would have said something like _damn right you do_ (and he wouldn’t have even offered to watch Piero in the first place). But this current Francesco just said, “It’s really no trouble, I’m happy to do it.”

* * *

Lorenzo was leaving early on Saturday, but Francesco woke up too to say goodbye. “Forget anything?” he asked as Lorenzo carried his bag out into the living room.

“I hope not. It’s only one night anyway,” he said in a tone that made Francesco feel like he was reassuring himself.

Francesco went into Lorenzo’s room and woke Piero, then brought him over to Lorenzo. “Say goodbye to your dad,” he told him.

“Actually, would you guys mind coming to the train station with me?” Lorenzo asked, already blinking back tears.

Francesco took pity on him and agreed, and they all walked to the train station together and found Lorenzo’s platform. “Okay, you really have to go now, the train’s leaving in two minutes,” Francesco said after Lorenzo had stalled getting on the train for a good fifteen minutes.

“All right, all right.” Lorenzo took Piero from him, hugged him tight, and gave him a big kiss. “Bye-bye, sweetheart. I love you so much,” he said, now fully crying. “I’ll be back really soon, I promise. You won’t even notice I was gone.”

“We’ll Facetime you tonight,” Francesco offered. “And stop crying, you’re going to scare him and make him think you’re never coming back.”

“Okay, okay,” Lorenzo said, sniffling and clearly trying to get ahold of himself, without much success.

Finally he relinquished Piero and scrambled to get on the train; he made it, just barely. Francesco tried to get Piero to wave at the train as it began to leave, but he was more interested in pulling Francesco’s hair. Once the train was out of sight, Francesco took Piero home and sat with him on the couch to read a book together. Or rather, Francesco read the book while Piero tried to rip the pages out and giggled when Francesco told him to stop.

“You’re a little devil, you know that?” Francesco said, and Piero looked up at him so innocently that he couldn’t help but laugh too.

They had a calm and relatively stress-free day and Facetimed Lorenzo after dinner. “Look, Piero, who’s that?” Francesco said, pointing at the screen. “Who’s that?”

He had no interest until Lorenzo started talking. “Hi, Piero!” he said. “How’s your day been? Are you and Francesco having fun?”

Piero looked at the phone and started babbling excitedly. “Oh my God, he recognizes my voice,” Lorenzo said rather tearfully.

Francesco smiled. “Of course he does.”

They talked for half an hour. Francesco wasn’t sure if Piero could see Lorenzo on the screen—how good was a six-month-old’s vision?—but he definitely did seem to know his voice. “Well, we should go, it’s almost his bedtime,” Francesco said finally, though for some reason he didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Oh. Yeah,” Lorenzo said sadly. But then he smiled. “Don’t throw any wild parties tonight, you two.”

“Oh, we’re going to trash the place. You know how we are.”

Francesco was still smiling after he’d hung up, and he started getting Piero ready for bed. He was nodding off when Francesco put him in his crib, and to Francesco’s relief, all was quiet for several hours. But he was just about to drift off himself when he heard Piero crying.

Francesco rolled over and tried to ignore him, not wanting to disrupt whatever sleep training Lorenzo had going on by running to Piero the second he started crying. But it was an awfully heartbreaking sound, especially when he thought about how Piero had never slept in an empty room before, he could always see Lorenzo sleeping in his own bed not far away. And now he wasn’t there.

Francesco threw off the covers and got out of bed, then crossed the hall and pushed open the door to Lorenzo’s room. Piero was still sobbing, and Francesco gently picked him up and snuggled him against his bare chest. “Hey, hey, shhh, it’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here. I’m here.”

Piero nestled into his warmth, sniffling. “You miss your dad, don’t you?” Francesco said. “I…I miss him too.”

And he did, he realized with aching clarity. He knew it was stupid, Lorenzo had been gone less than twenty-four hours, but God, Francesco missed him. Lorenzo used to travel without him and vice versa all the time and Francesco had never missed him then, but things had been different since Piero came along.

They weren’t just roommates anymore, or even friends. They were family. Francesco and Lorenzo and Piero. They were a family. And it was the first night since their family had been formed that they weren’t all together. No wonder Francesco and Piero both felt like there was a piece missing.

Piero had quieted down and was gazing up at Francesco with eyes filled with trust now rather than tears, and for a moment it completely took Francesco’s breath away as he realized how much he _loved_ this boy. Lorenzo, Guglielmo, Bianca, his niece and nephew, Novella, what little he could remember of his parents—these were the only people Francesco had truly loved in his life, and what he felt for Piero wasn’t stronger, per se, but it was so _different_ from any of those other loves.

Looking down at this tiny, helpless little human and knowing that he _knew_ Francesco, that he recognized him as his caregiver, that when he cried in the night he trusted Francesco to make everything better…This was a kind of love Francesco had never experienced before. It was a little terrifying to have someone depend on him this much, but more than anything it filled him with pride and gratitude.

He knew Piero wasn’t his son. But _fuck_ , sometimes it really felt like he was.

“I love you,” Francesco whispered, kissing Piero’s temple. “Maybe I’ll sleep in here tonight and keep you company. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind. Would you like that?”

Piero was still clinging to him, and Francesco didn’t have the heart to put him back in his crib just yet. So he pulled back the covers on Lorenzo’s bed and climbed in, setting Piero down in the middle of the bed and lying on his side facing him so he could keep an eye on him. Once Piero was asleep again, Francesco told himself, he’d move him back to the crib.

But it was so warm under the blankets, which still smelled a little like Lorenzo, and before he knew it, Francesco had fallen asleep himself.

* * *

Lorenzo’s train got in early the next morning and he didn’t bother texting Francesco to meet him at the train station, not wanting to wake him. It was a pretty short walk from the train station to their apartment anyway, and within ten minutes Lorenzo was unlocking the door and walking in, trying to be quiet.

But then he noticed that Francesco’s door was open and his bed was empty. Thinking he must have gone to wake Piero up, Lorenzo went into his own room. The sight that greeted him warmed his heart beyond words.

Francesco was fast asleep in his bed with Piero sleeping next to him, his little hand curled around Francesco’s finger. Smiling fondly, Lorenzo set his bag down and took his shoes off, then climbed onto the other side of the bed and lay down. He kissed the top of Piero’s head and draped his arm over him. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he covered Francesco’s hand with his own.

Piero slept on, but the movement of the mattress woke Francesco. Lorenzo hastily moved his hand away as Francesco blinked his eyes open. “Lorenzo,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “You’re home.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said, smiling at him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have slept here without asking you—”

“I don’t mind at all,” Lorenzo said. “You two looked so cute when I walked in.”

Francesco smiled too, rather sheepishly. “How was the trip?”

“Good, I secured the accounts. How was Piero?”

“Good. I think he missed you, though. That’s why I wanted to sleep in here with him, so we—he wouldn’t be lonely.”

Lorenzo didn’t miss the swift correction of subject, and his smile widened. “You missed me too,” he said.

Francesco’s cheeks turned pink, and it was probably only because Lorenzo had caught him when he’d just woken up that he admitted, “Maybe a little.”

“Well, I also missed you,” Lorenzo said. _“Both_ of you.”

Francesco was still smiling at him, looking so sleepy and soft and angelic. Without really knowing what he was doing, Lorenzo reached out to brush a stray curl out of his eyes, then left his hand resting on his cheek. He heard Francesco’s breath hitch, and he moved a little closer so that their faces were only an inch apart.

And then Francesco leaned towards him and kissed him. Lorenzo closed his eyes and kissed him back, running his hand through his hair, inhaling his familiar scent, savoring the taste of his lips.

God, it felt like _home._

After a long, long minute Francesco drew back, looking nervous. But Lorenzo chased his lips, kissing him again, more deeply this time. Then he nudged Francesco onto his back and carefully climbed over Piero, settling himself on top of Francesco and leaning down to kiss him a third time. Francesco sighed into his mouth and put his arm around his waist to keep him pressed against him.

Lorenzo was intoxicated by him, couldn’t have stopped kissing him if his life depended on it. Eventually he left his lips and started brushing kisses over his cheek, his ear, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, making note of which spots were particularly sensitive and made Francesco shudder with pleasure. He’d just made it to his shoulder when they were interrupted by Piero yawning surprisingly loudly for someone so small.

Lorenzo looked over and saw that he was waking up, and he sighed. “He never knows how to stay asleep when he’s supposed to, does he?” he said, though he was smiling.

Francesco laughed, and Lorenzo returned to his lips for one last kiss before sitting up and picking Piero up, then climbing off Francesco. Francesco sat up too and Lorenzo turned around so that he could lean back against Francesco’s chest as he settled Piero in his own lap.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Lorenzo told him. “I missed _you_ too. Did you miss me or were you having too much fun with Francesco?”

Piero smiled at him and Lorenzo kissed his nose, making him giggle. Francesco wrapped his arms around both of them, hugging Lorenzo from behind and cradling Piero with him. Lorenzo snuggled into him and turned his head slightly to see Francesco smiling where he was resting his chin on Lorenzo’s shoulder. Francesco caught his eye and Lorenzo smiled too, certain no moment had ever felt as perfect as this one.

The rest of the day passed like any other, with very few signs that a life-changing shift had just occurred. Lorenzo supposed that he and Francesco had already been acting so much like a couple anyway, there wasn’t much difference now that they actually were one. Except for the kissing. That was new. And Lorenzo was definitely a fan.

“You’re insatiable,” Francesco scolded with a smile in his voice after Lorenzo had spent close to an hour kissing him on the couch that night once Piero was asleep.

“Well, I have a lot of lost time to make up for.” Lorenzo kissed him again. “I should have started kissing you at _least_ ten years ago.”

“You wanted to kiss me when we were teenagers?”

“At one point. You were _hot_ when we were fifteen. When you showed up at school after summer break that year and you suddenly had cheekbones and eyeliner and skinny jeans, and you were mean to me every time we spoke? I’m pretty sure that’s what made me realize I’m bi.”

They were both laughing now. “What, is your kink people being mean to you?” Francesco said.

“Apparently. And you’ve always been _so_ mean to me, even once we became friends again,” Lorenzo said. He stole another kiss. “I should’ve realized long ago that I’m in love with you.”

Francesco’s eyes widened a little, a blush starting to dust his cheeks. “You _love_ me?” he said, looking stunned and shy and hopeful. Despite Lorenzo’s previous joke, he much preferred Francesco like this, all soft and vulnerable with his hair tousled and un-gelled and the most precious smile Lorenzo had ever seen growing on his face.

“I do,” Lorenzo said, smiling back. “I love you, Francesco.”

Francesco smiled wider, his nose crinkling and his eyes shining with warmth. “I love you too,” he said, the words making butterflies dance in Lorenzo’s stomach.

They abandoned the conversation for several minutes in favor of kissing, but then Lorenzo spoke again. “You know, I’ve been thinking that Piero will eventually need his own room so he can learn to sleep without me there.”

“Have you?” Francesco said.

“Yes. And before, I was thinking we might have to look for a bigger apartment since this one only has two bedrooms,” Lorenzo said. “But now, I think an easier solution would be for you and him to just switch rooms.”

Francesco blinked at him, and then a slow, teasing smile spread across his face. “If you want to get me into bed, just say so,” he said.

“All right, fine.” Grinning, Lorenzo leaned in again to press a heated kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Francesco,” he murmured in his ear. “I want you in my bed.”

Francesco let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “Lorenzo…”

“Well, actually, it’ll have to be your bed since there’s currently a sleeping infant in my room. But the offer still stands.”

Francesco laughed and so did Lorenzo. And that night, Lorenzo discovered for the first time how much more _fun_ sex was when you could laugh together during it, when you knew each other better than you knew yourselves.

Francesco fell asleep first and Lorenzo lay awake for a while, watching him with a small smile on his face. He couldn’t believe he had the privilege of getting to be with Francesco like this, he’d never thought it would be possible. Never thought Francesco would return his feelings. But he did.

Lorenzo rolled over to grab his phone off the bedside table and send a text to Bianca. _Guglielmo owes you 20 euros._

He’d finally fallen asleep when he was woken again by Piero wailing his head off across the hall. Lorenzo groaned and buried his face in the pillow, and he heard Francesco letting out a tired sigh next to him, also clearly awake.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said he was upset about sleeping in there by himself last night,” Lorenzo said, and Francesco hummed in commiserating agreement. “I guess we can’t leave him alone _all_ night.” He got out of bed.

“I thought you were going to train him to sleep in his own room?” Francesco said.

“Soon. But not tonight, I’m too tired,” Lorenzo said with a yawn. “And if giving in to Piero’s demands means I get a better night’s sleep, so be it.”

He thought Francesco looked disappointed about this, but he didn’t understand why until he’d reached the door and Francesco hadn’t followed him. Lorenzo turned back and saw him still burrowed under the covers, looking glum, and he realized Francesco had mistakenly assumed Lorenzo’s bed-switching plans didn’t include him.

“Aren’t you coming?” Lorenzo said.

“Oh, I thought…I didn’t realize you wanted me to come with you,” Francesco said.

“Of course I do. I have no intention of sleeping alone tonight.”

He was rewarded by Francesco smiling and throwing off the covers to follow him across the hall.

Piero calmed down quickly when he saw them and realized he had not, in fact, been abandoned in the middle of the night. All three settled in to go back to sleep, and Lorenzo drifted off to the sound of Piero’s familiar breathing coming from his crib and Francesco’s, new but just as comforting, coming from right next to him in bed.

* * *

**6 months later**

“Piero, look who’s here!” Lucrezia said as Francesco followed her inside.

Piero was sitting on the floor with some blocks a little ways away, but he obediently looked up and made an excited noise when he saw Francesco. Smiling, Francesco crossed the room to pick him up and give him a kiss. “Hi, Piero,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Buh!”

“I’m glad to hear it.” To Lucrezia, he said, “Was he good?”

“An angel, as always,” she said fondly. “I’ll see you both soon. Are you sure you don’t want me to come early and help set up for the party?”

“No, thank you, we’ve got it covered,” Francesco assured her. “It’s hardly a party, just some cake. Which Lorenzo will be getting started on if he’s home yet, and he barely knows the difference between salt and sugar, so I should hurry home and give him a hand before he ruins it.”

Lucrezia laughed and waved goodbye to Piero, and they headed out. On the bus home, Francesco sat with Piero on his lap and talked to him about his day. Piero’s participation in the conversation was mostly incoherent; he understood a fair amount of words by now, but the only ones he could consistently say himself were “Papa” and “Nonna” seeing as Lorenzo and Lucrezia were the people he spent the most time with (and Francesco, but he usually got called something along the lines of “Ceh!”).

They were deep in discussion about plans for his birthday cake when Francesco heard someone saying, “Your son is so cute!”

He looked up and saw that the woman in the seat across the aisle was smiling at him and Piero. Francesco opened his mouth to correct her, but for some reason…the words stuck in his throat. It was far from the first time he’d been mistaken for Piero’s father, but he would always say, if with Lorenzo, _actually, he’s his son,_ or if alone, _actually, he’s my godson,_ or if alone and also feeling willing to share a little more information about his personal life, _actually, he’s my partner’s son._

Right now, though, as he glanced down at Piero snuggled in his lap and curiously snapping the clasps of his briefcase, he just couldn’t bring himself to tell this woman the truth. So instead Francesco smiled and thanked her, a tightness in his chest he couldn’t explain.

“He looks just like his papa,” she was saying now. “Those eyes!”

And it was true that when all three of them were together, people were a little quicker to assume Francesco was Piero’s father than Lorenzo because of the dark, dark eyes they both shared, as opposed to Lorenzo’s bright blue ones, but right now, the common error was making Francesco’s throat close up. “I’ve always thought he takes after his mother,” he said quietly, which was true—Piero _did_ look like Sofia—even if misleading.

Thankfully the woman was distracted by her own toddler pulling on her sleeve, and Francesco turned to look out the window, his eyes stinging. He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Piero’s head, closing his eyes and leaving his lips there for a long moment as he was overwhelmed with a wistful sort of longing.

Francesco was still a little subdued when they arrived home. “There’s the birthday boy!” Lorenzo exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen covered in flour.

“Papa!” Piero cried happily as Lorenzo swept him into his arms, and Francesco had to look away for a second, overwhelmed with that longing again, now mixed with jealousy.

But then Lorenzo was turning his attention to him and kissing him in greeting. “How was work?” he asked.

“Fine, you?” Francesco said, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Same as always.” Lorenzo paused. “Are you okay?”

Francesco finally looked at him and saw that he was watching him with concern. “Of course. Just tired,” he said, trying to smile. “Come on, let’s see how badly you’ve fucked up the cake.”

“Excuse _me,_ I’m doing a fantastic job!”

“Then why does the kitchen look like a warzone?”

Francesco managed to rescue the cake, and soon it was in the oven. Once that was done, Francesco said a little tentatively, “Some lady on the bus was saying that Piero looks like me.”

“He really does, doesn’t he?” Lorenzo said with a smile. “I swear he’s got your exact eyes.”

“But that’s impossible,” Francesco said. “We don’t share any genes.”

“Well, yeah, but people can look like each other without being related, just by coincidence,” Lorenzo said, looking puzzled at his adamance. “And I think it’s the most beautiful coincidence in the world that Piero looks like you.”

“But it’s not _true,”_ Francesco said, a lump in his throat.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay, Francesco?” Lorenzo said, his brow furrowing. “What’s this about?”

Francesco glanced away and busied himself tidying up the kitchen. “Nothing, never mind,” he said. “Forget it.”

To his pleasant surprise, Lorenzo actually did drop the subject rather than pestering him until he cracked, though only because he was distracted by the unmistakable sounds of Piero getting into mischief in the other room.

After the kitchen was all clean, Francesco went out to join them and found Piero playing with the puzzle Sofia had given him for his birthday when she’d come to visit over the weekend. He was frowning in concentration as he tried to stick a piece in several different spots, ignoring Lorenzo’s attempts to direct him to the right one.

“Clearly he’s too independent for you,” Francesco said.

“Right? This is what I get for trying to help,” Lorenzo said with a laugh. Then his expression grew more serious and Francesco knew he was preparing to start grilling him again, but at that exact moment, someone buzzed up to the apartment.

It was the first time in his life Francesco had ever been glad to see Giuliano. “Happy birthday, little man,” Giuliano said, crouching down to greet Piero with a fistbump, though Piero just grabbed his fist and giggled. “All right, we’ll work on that. Anyway, I can’t believe you’re one already, next thing we know you’ll be headed off to university.”

“Don’t even say that!” Lorenzo said, aghast.

The rest of the family arrived in short order, and soon the room was filled with talk and laughter. Usually Francesco hated Medici family gatherings (or at least he pretended to, he had a reputation to maintain), but today it did lift his spirits to see Piero surrounded by such a big and loving family all showering him with attention and birthday presents.

When the timer went off, Francesco took the cake out of the oven and set it aside to cool, and he returned to the kitchen a while later to frost it. The cake was just plain vanilla with vanilla frosting, but Francesco had dyed the frosting blue and covered it with white frosting stars and a candle in the shape of a number one, so it looked pretty nice, if he did say so himself.

He went back out to the living room and made everyone be quiet so he could announce that the cake was ready and it was time for them all to go sit at the table. But before he had a chance to actually say any of that, the silence was broken by Piero exclaiming, “Papa!”

Wondering why Piero was suddenly excited about Lorenzo’s presence when he’d been with him this entire time, Francesco turned to look. And he saw that Piero wasn’t looking at Lorenzo.

He was looking at Francesco.

Francesco’s breath caught in his throat. He was completely speechless, his mind blank as he struggled to figure out how he was supposed to react to this. “Oh my God,” Lorenzo said, but he didn’t sound mad or jealous, he sounded thrilled, and Francesco couldn’t understand, why wasn’t he upset that his son was calling someone else _papa_?

Piero was crawling over to Francesco and expectantly reaching up towards him to be picked up, and Francesco did so on instinct, though he was still shell-shocked. “I-I guess he’s still in that phase where he calls everyone _papa_ ,” he said, trying to laugh. “Remember that time he even said it to the cashier when we took him to a store—”

“Yes, but that phase was a while ago. He doesn’t do that anymore,” Lorenzo said, smiling at him. “He knows exactly who Papa is now. Or rather, who Papas are, plural.”

“But he doesn’t—I’m not—” Francesco stammered, feeling close to tears. “He’s never called me that before, it must be because someone on the bus called me his papa today, it must’ve confused him—”

“Did you correct her?” Lorenzo interrupted.

“What?”

“When she called you his papa, did you correct her? Because if this is the same bus lady who went on to comment that you looked alike, that must mean you didn’t correct her about being his dad.”

Francesco opened his mouth and closed it again. He could feel the entire roomful of Medici staring at him, which wasn’t the most comfortable sensation in the world. “No,” he whispered, looking down at Piero in his arms. “I didn’t.”

Lorenzo was getting to his feet and coming over to him, sliding one arm around his waist and moving the other to hold Piero with him. “Is this, like, A Moment here?” Bianca asked. “Should we give you the room?”

“If you could just be quiet for thirty seconds, that would be fantastic,” Lorenzo said before returning his attention to Francesco. “When we’re together and someone assumes you’re his dad, you’re always quick to correct them. But you don’t when you’re alone? Do you only do it in front of me because you’re worried I’ll be hurt? Because I promise you, Francesco, nothing could be further from the truth. I would _love_ for you to be considered Piero’s dad. But I always took your insistence on correcting people as a sign that you didn’t want to be, so I never said anything about it to you. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But if you want it too and you were just worried about making _me_ uncomfortable…”

“I do always correct them even if you’re not there, today was the only time I haven’t, and I don’t know why I didn’t,” Francesco said. “And Piero didn’t really mean it just now. He’s never called me Papa and no one’s ever called me that in front of him either, he knows me as Francesco. That’s my name to him.”

“Yes, that’s true, and sure, maybe right now _was_ just him getting a little mixed up,” Lorenzo acknowledged. “But it’s not about what he calls us. It’s about how he thinks of us. He doesn’t really have the specific concept of ‘father’ down yet, but I know that when he thinks of the main people who love him and take care of him, he thinks of _both_ of us, not just me. When he thinks of home, he thinks of both of us. We’re equal in his eyes.”

“It’s true,” Lucrezia said from the sofa. “Whichever one of you comes to pick him up after work, he’s equally excited regardless. When Francesco walks in my front door, Piero’s whole face lights up just the same as it does for Lorenzo.”

Francesco was fighting hard not to cry because he knew Giuliano would never let him live that down, but it was a losing battle, and he could feel tears trickling openly down his cheeks. And sure enough: “Awww, Francesco’s crying!” Giuliano said in a tone of gleeful mockery.

“Giuliano, shut _up,”_ said about four different people at the same time. (Including Lorenzo. And possibly also Lucrezia, if Francesco wasn’t mistaken.)

But Francesco was already too overloaded by the conversation at hand to really process much of these background comments anyway. “Lorenzo, but—but _you’re_ his dad,” he said, his voice wobbling. “I don’t want to overstep and take that from you—”

“Don’t be silly, you wouldn’t be taking anything from me,” Lorenzo said, resting his forehead against his and smiling at him. “Piero has two dads, he always has. You’ve been here since day one. You’ve been raising him and loving him right alongside me the whole damn time. Being the sperm donor is the only thing I’ve done for him that you haven’t also done, and that doesn’t matter at the end of the day. You’re his dad too, Francesco. You really are. If you want to be.”

Francesco was still sniffling, but now he was finally starting to smile too. And that wistful longing he’d felt on the bus from pretending to be Piero’s dad, that jealousy of hearing him call Lorenzo _papa_ when they got home—all of that was gone, pure joy replacing it. “I-I do,” he said. “Yeah. I do.”

His voice cracked and broke and he buried his face in Lorenzo’s shoulder as he started to cry in earnest. Lorenzo fully wrapped his arms around him and Piero and planted kisses in Francesco’s hair, also crying a little, and Francesco could hear a chorus of _aww_ ’s from the whole family, but right now the only people in his world were Lorenzo and Piero.

“I love you,” he said, not entirely sure which one of them he was talking to. His boyfriend or his son.

Lorenzo kissed them both. “We love you too.”

Piero clearly didn’t understand why his dads had descended into a crying mess, and he started squirming and making annoyed little noises. “You’re right, Papa and I _are_ squishing you,” Lorenzo said, taking a step back. “Sorry about that.”

 _Papa._ Francesco was beaming, his heart overflowing with more love than he’d ever thought possible. “We can’t _both_ be Papa, that’ll be confusing in a few years when we don’t know which one he’s talking to,” he said. “One of us will have to be called something else.”

“Good point,” Lorenzo said thoughtfully. “We’ll discuss it.”

Francesco cleared his throat and shifted Piero into one arm so he could wipe his eyes with his other hand. “Anyway,” he said, some of his elation starting to be clouded by mortification at having made such a scene in front of their entire family. “I think it’s time for cake.”

“Oh, _finally_ ,” Giuliano said, bolting for the table right along with Bianca and Guglielmo’s older kids.

Francesco brought out the cake, and they all sang to Piero before Lorenzo and Francesco helped him blow out the candle. Then Lorenzo scooped a little bite of cake onto a fork and fed it to Piero, and everybody laughed when he squealed in delight and reached for the entire cake to grab another fistful.

Francesco hastily cut everyone else a slice before Piero could demolish it too badly, and cheerful conversation fell over the table as they all ate. “So, now that Francesco’s been promoted from godfather to father, can I get the vacant godfather position?” Giuliano asked.

“You can’t just change godparents after the baptism,” Carlo informed him as Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “It’s already set in the eyes of God, and it’s a commitment that can’t be broken.”

“Surely God would understand,” Giuliano said.

“I’m still his godfather,” Francesco said indignantly. “You can’t steal that from me.”

“But you can’t be _both,_ that’s not fair.”

“Watch me.”

“Don’t worry, Giuliano,” Lorenzo said. “You’ll be first in line for godfather of our second child, if we have one.”

“Jesus, okay, that’s a big _if,”_ Francesco intervened before he could get carried away. “And besides, maybe I’d want Guglielmo to be the godfather of our _extremely hypothetical_ second child.”

“Oh no,” Guglielmo said, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to step on Giuliano’s toes here.”

“We’ll pick you for child number three,” Lorenzo promised him.

Francesco spluttered in alarm as the rest of the family laughed at him. “Lorenzo. No. We have been dating for six months,” he said. “We are _not_ having the kids conversation yet.”

“Why not? It’s hardly a taboo topic, seeing as we already _have_ a kid.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t on purpose.”

“All the more reason for us to have more,” Lorenzo declared. “To see what it’s like when it _is_ on purpose.”

Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Francesco turned to attempt to wipe some of the frosting smeared all over Piero’s face (his efforts were completely ineffective). “I’m good with our family exactly as it is right now,” he said, smiling as Piero happily shoved more cake in his mouth. “I don’t need anything other than this.”


End file.
